


return to me

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fix-It, M/M, cas comes back!, the power of gay love pierced through the veil of death etc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:20:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27639448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: wow that was a finale. here's my take on it (more sappy + destiel focused)
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 1
Kudos: 32





	return to me

**Author's Note:**

> i haven't seen s15 except for... that, and i'm only at s2 in my rewatch. somehow, i'm still more qualified to write this than anyone who worked on the finale

After everything, Dean and Sam stop hunting for a while. They mill around the bunker, pretending like everything’s normal, and that there isn’t an angel-sized hole in their lives. Dean, resolutely, does not say anything about Cas. 

Sam goes out jogging in the mornings, and Dean makes breakfast while he’s out, makes toast and eggs and bacon too, breakfasts fit for kings, and plays his music as loud as he can. 

He and Sam find a routine, Dean making breakfast while Sam’s out on his run, Sam making dinner (or ordering takeout, Sam’s not a very good cook) in the evening. Without hunting, though, there’s just more empty space, more free time than anything. After Cas, Dean had wanted to go right back into hunting, but Sam thought it would be best to take a break for a few weeks or so. 

So Dean lazes around the bunker, taking care of the dog and listening to music over shitty dollar store earbuds. He doesn’t want to put words to it, but he’s sulking. 

Over breakfast one morning, Sam turns to Dean and says, “I know you’re broken up over Cas, I am too. But you have to talk about it sometime.”

Dean looks away. “It’s different for me,” he says quietly. Sam doesn’t say anything, and it’s his silence that gives Dean the courage to continue, “Cas was— he said he loved me, right before. And that was the first time he’d been truly happy since—” It’s ridiculously difficult for Dean to get the words out, but he pushes through. “I don’t think I was able to understand it until now, but I loved him too.”

Sam raises his eyebrows, but stays silent. 

“But it doesn’t matter now, does it?” Dean says, and pounds his fist on the table. His glass of orange juice shakes and Sam flinches. “He was in love with me, and I couldn’t even _tell_ him that I loved him too.”

That hangs in the air for a moment. Dean rubs his face with his hands. “I just wish I could see him again. Just so I could tell him, so I could get some fucking closure.”

Sam finally meets Dean’s eyes. “I’m sorry, Dean,” he says. His voice is soft, like he’s talking to a child, and Dean stands up quickly, shoving his chair backwards. He doesn’t want pity right now. What he wants is solutions, some way to see Cas again. He’d settle for condemnation, honestly, after everything he did to Cas. 

He can’t take pity right now, and he certainly won’t take it from Sam. “I don’t need to hear it from you,” he says, and storms out of the bunker. 

He gets in the Impala and starts driving, just to get away from Sam and the bitter memories that the bunker holds. He drives for an hour, a little longer, before he pulls the car to the side of the road and breaks down sobbing. 

Dean doesn’t know much about grief, not really. He’s grieved his mother and father, twice over, and he’s grieved his brother who knows how many times. But all of that is practiced, it’s all laid out. When you lose a brother, you know exactly what you’ve lost, the shape of the hole he leaves. With Cas, Dean doesn’t know where he ends and the pain begins. He doesn’t know how to categorize what he lost when Cas gave his life for him.

There’s a bitter, angry part of him that wishes Cas had never said anything at all, had just let that love simmer in silence, had found another way to save Dean. He would have been content for them to leave whatever love they had unspoken between them, if it meant Cas could have lived.

But he remembers the joy on Cas’s face, as he had spoken those fateful words, “ _I love you,_ ” and Dean wouldn’t take that from him, wouldn’t ask him to give that up. 

By now, he’s collected himself enough that he can sit up and look at his surroundings. He’s parked on the side of a road next to a forest, and it’s raining outside.

 _Perfect_ , he thinks. _Just what I needed_. He’s far too shaky still to drive back, so he puts on some Metallica and tries to catch his breath. 

He closes his eyes for just a second, but he feels the air in the car change subtly, and he looks over to the passenger’s seat, almost out of instinct. 

As he does, Cas puts his hand on Dean’s shoulder. 

“Hello Dean,” he says, voice weary.

Dean can barely react, can barely process the fact that Cas is alive, Cas is in front of him, and he’s smiling at Dean, almost shyly. 

“Cas,” Dean says, sure that his voice is about to fail. Cas tilts his head. “How...”

“Jack,” Cas explains, “Jack brought me back. Dean, I...”

Dean laughs a little. Both of them are at a loss for words, and Dean feels like a high schooler with a crush. He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to say here, he’s never done anything like this before.

“I understand if you don’t want to—” Cas starts, but Dean cuts him off.

“Cas, I love you too,” he says, and nearly starts crying again from how good it feels. He’s finally able to admit it, to look at Cas and understand what he feels for him. Even though it’s uncharted territory, even though he’s terrified, Dean has never felt more safe. 

He reaches over, covers Cas’s hand with his own. _He’s real_ , he tells himself. _This is real_. 

And it is real, more real than he could have imagined. Cas puts his other hand on Dean’s cheek, and Dean leans in and kisses him. 

Cas pulls away. “I never thought that you would love me back,” he says quietly.

Dean rests his forehead on Cas’s. “Of course I do,” he replies. “Cas, you mean _so much_ to me. I... I love you.” He wants to keep saying it, to say it until he runs out of breath. He _loves_ Cas, he’s _in love_ with Cas. And he’s not ashamed of it anymore, at least not here, away from the world. 

Whatever happens outside of this moment, whatever hell they’ve been through, together and apart, none of that matters to Dean. What matters is that Cas is here, that Cas loves him and he loves Cas too.

Cas smiles. “You already said that.”

“I want to say it again,” Dean says, barely able to catch his breath. He’s drunk on this, drunk on Cas’s presence and the feeling of Cas’s breath on his lips. 

“You can say it as much as you want to, Dean,” Cas says, and Dean grins.

“I love you,” he says. “Cas, I love you.”

Cas kisses him lightly, and says, “I love you too, Dean.”


End file.
